{Originally published on Gala Darling Icing}

So, I have this friend. She’s gorgeous, hilarious, intimidatingly intelligent… & also works as a dominatrix. Since she doesn’t really want to be “out to Google”, I can’t tell you much more about her, but I can tell you that I am really excited & delighted to present you with the following interview (which I find absolutely fascinating). Enjoy!

Tell us about what you do.
Since I was of legal age I’ve been a “part-time purveyor of erotic odd-jobbery, all sorts,” but for the past year and a half I have been what is most easily called a dominatrix.

I know that you’ve been in the sex work industry for a while now. When & why did you get into it in the first place?
Yup, a long time. I’m 22 now and I got into the sex industry around 18 through a perfect formation of the Great Upper-Middle Class White Girl Sex Worker Trifecta: Morbid curiosity, interest in sexuality, and “I can make HOW MUCH money?!” I started in doing phone sex with older men, paid through Paypal, and picked up (and dropped) odd gigs along the way.

As for when I got into it for serious, I was going to school and working at a “feminist sex boutique” and since the pay was sh*t (hey, dildo retail is still retail!) all of my coworkers had side gigs. Generally, these were doing things like toy parties on commission or working the renaissance faire (!) on the weekends. Several also did “foot parties,” which is a set up where a lot of foot fetish enthusiasts and ladies with nice feet meet in a very formal way, usually at a club or bar, to mingle with the hoped-for outcome of “mini foot sessions.” These sessions were usually just foot massage or toe-sniffing, trampling, the like. There’s no absolutely no genital contact…

{Originally published on uuMomma.}

Earlier in the week my neighbor said she had a wedding to go to Thursday night. I wondered, who would plan a wedding on a Thursday night? Fast forward to Thursday night when my husband and I are having a late dinner at a very nice restaurant in town, surrounded by young couples and one older couple with their 9 year old son. Doh! It’s Valentine’s Day, that’s why someone would have a wedding on a Thursday night, same reason we would have dinner at 8:30 on a Thursday (okay, wait, that’s not so unusual).

So I pictured the young couple getting married on Valentine’s Day, people I’ve never met and may never meet. Knowing this neighbor as I do, I was able to spin out a fictional representation of that wedding that was startlingly uninteresting. I pictured a pink face surrounded by white lace. I knew she must be a virgin (as this IS what the church dictates for this group) which actually could be an interesting twist to weddings today. I pictured the groom in a black tux and the pink face, white lace and ruddy red and eager-face of the groom show off strikingly against a giant red heart in the background.

So that’s the image that floated to my head as I had my Homer Simpson moment of realization that some couples do get married or engaged on Valentine’s Day. This unknown bride’s presumed virginity caused me to remember something someone once said to me about why she married a man she had known only a few months. “I wanted to have sex with him,” she said, “and back then, you got married if you wanted to do that.”

It was a naive notion, even back in the 50s, but she was a good girl and so she got married. More than 50 years later, this woman is still married to that man and they continue to have a relationship founded not on their desire to have sex (the thought of which causes me to stick my fingers in my ears and go ‘la la la la la’), but to be in love with each other enough to wait for commitment in the first place, and to stay in love through all the trials that that commitment has laid at their collective door.

Originally published on Deb on the Rocks

I have a theory that humans take a fancy to the things that keep them in a perpetual state of foreplay. Not in a perpetual state of pre-orgasm, because as we have established, constantly living on the edge of a volcano could be a bit too much. But foreplay, a continuous state of desire, arousal, exploration and craving, that is the human preference.

Baseball, politics, film, cooking, eating, organizing, Viggo Mortensen,
aquariums, god only know what you are into. I’m betting that if we
could start in the part of your brain where your love of whatever it is
you love resides and follow the sparking and frayed wiring past where
it crosses the blue synapses and the firing yellow connections and that
knot of red wire, we would find a glowing hotspot in your neural
network that’s throbbing and straining to break through a zipper.

That said, I love the roller derby.

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